


Ironic Symmetry

by idrilhadhafang



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: And a sore loser, Canon Compliant, Dark, Future Character Death, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Luke Skywalker Needs A Hug, Manipulative Sheev Palpatine, Mind Control, Minor Poe Dameron/Ben Solo, Palpatine Is Petty, Past Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Psychological Horror, technically thanks to Luke being an unreliable narrator in canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:28:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23708380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idrilhadhafang/pseuds/idrilhadhafang
Summary: Luke didn’t tell Rey the full story of what Palpatine did to him the night Luke nearly killed Ben Solo.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Kudos: 5
Collections: Trope Bingo: Round Fourteen





	Ironic Symmetry

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Mind Control
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

The footsteps that Luke took towards Ben’s hut didn’t quite feel like his own. Even walking along the grass, under the light of the full moon, Luke couldn’t help but feel like his body was being used as a puppet. One foot in front of the other. Luke didn’t know what, but the voice in his mind (with a presence that felt cold) was leading him towards something.   
  
And then he reached the hut itself. Ben was asleep, terribly still — too still for the sheer feeling of wrongness, if offness, radiating from him. Luke struggled against his hand outstretching, but it seemed to curl into talons and pull, pull from Ben’s mind...  
  
And he felt it. The surrounding cold, like the stinging air of Hoth. Screams in Ben’s head — didn’t the cacophony drive him mad, hearing it all the time? Hearing everything in the galaxy, too loud, too shrill? And images. Images of a burning Temple, of Poe being tortured on a rack, of Leia dying, Han being impaled on a strange red lightsaber with crossguards...  
  
 _Good, Skywalker, good._ A voice, too deep to be recognizable. Deeper than Vader’s. _Kill the whelp and mount his head on your wall. It’s the only way to save the galaxy, your students, your friends..._  
  
 _No,_ Luke pleaded in his mind, _Please..._  
  
As if in a dream, Luke’s hand drew his lightsaber, ignited it. _Is it not your rightful place to be the Chosen One?_ the Voice rumbled. _Is it not your fate, your destiny?_  
  
It was then that Luke snapped out of it, looking down at his still-sleeping nephew and realizing, almost like he had come out of a trance, that his lightsaber was ignited. Brilliant green. All but illuminating Ben with its glow, shining down on him. A green blade that, for a moment when Luke looked at it (maybe it was the lack of sleep getting to him?), turned red.  
  
For a moment, Luke swore that Ben’s sleeping form changed into something else entirely. Vader’s prone form, missing a hand after Luke had attacked him.   
  
For a moment (was it real or just a memory?), Luke swore that he heard Palpatine laughing, taunting him, just like he did in Luke’s occasional nightmares after the Second Death Star.   
  
He couldn’t kill Ben. Not only was Ben Leia’s son, and someone Luke loved, but he would just be giving in to the Dark Side if he did that. Luke stood there, feeling sick — hadn’t Bastila Shan said that no one deserved execution, no matter what their crimes? Hadn’t she also said that the Jedi held all life sacred?   
  
And in the worst possible moment, Ben woke — and in between the betrayal and fear in his eyes, Luke saw that they were wounded underneath. Hurt. He had taken Ben’s trust in him and cloven it in two.   
  
The duel (after Ben had summoned his own lightsaber to him) was over too quickly, after Luke pleaded with Ben to stop. He was about to explain, to say that he had been weak, that he was sorry — and that barely held any weight even as the hut collapsed around them both.   
  
***  
  
It was far away on Exegol that the replica of Palpatine himself smiled. Skywalker had been too weak to kill his puling swine of a nephew, just like with his father, but Palpatine’s revenge was set in motion nonetheless. He had forgotten how delightful it was, watching a plan come together. And Ben...of course Ben would fall. Even if he was foolish enough to forgive his uncle, he would do anything for that worthless pilot, as his grandfather did prior for Padme Amidala. Dameron was Ben’s Padme. Always.   
  
Palpatine’s smile broadened. Skywalker’s humiliation was already in the making for reducing Palpatine to a shell of what he could have been. Palpatine knew he would enjoy every minute of it.


End file.
